Heartlines
by rockyhorrorgirl
Summary: Period AU. Eventual Teslen. Difficult times lie ahead for the future of the Magnus estate and it's inhabitants. More so than anyone expected. Then again, Lady Helen has always quite liked a challenge, especially ones where she can say to hell with society and it's rules.
1. Difficult Beginnings

_**Plot birdy that came to mind after hours of catching up on Downton Abbey. A bit odd, but some of you may enjoy it!**_

The Magnus estate was relatively quiet early in the morning, with few disturbances daring to break the soft silence of the old house. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting soft colours across old wooden floors and creating a soft warmth of most of the rooms on the eastern side of the house. A usual early morning for the household, the smells of breakfast just breaking through and the birds beginning their usual chirps amongst the trees.

"Lady Helen!"

Startled awake, Helen blinked against the harsh sunlight filtering through the curtains that had just been jerked open. She groaned with a soft scowl crossing her face, turning over to bury her face in her pillow.

"It's far too early, Elizabeth."

"I beg your pardon, milady, but you have an unsuspected visitor most eager to see you."

"Who on earth that this hour?" She muttered, curling tighter to her pillow. Bugger.

"I'm sworn to secrecy, ma'am."

Helen Magnus was not often fond of surprise guests. The future countess had far more than enough on her plate at the time being. She'd assumed the last of the mourners over her brother's death had come and gone – her distant aunt had been the last. She'd had her moment, alone, in the bed she was currently unwilling to leave because of the exhaustion of the past weeks had finally settled in on her. It clung to her, threatening to drag her into bed and never let her go. It was still hard to believe that Henry would no longer be in her life – her little brother. How harsh fate was, to pull him away young when their mother had given their life for him.

"Come on, Miss. Helen. I wouldn't keep him waiting." Elizabeth urged, a soft smile on her face. Something was up, clearly. Helen sighed, but pushed herself from bed, her own curiosity getting the better of her and pushing through her drowsiness. Elizabeth had already laid out one of her many outfits, and reached for her dressing gown before her feet had even touched the floor.

Perhaps one day clothes would exist that she could dress herself in.

Layers were pulled over layers, blonde hair done up in usual soft curls. Elizabeth had gotten rather well at dressing her with speed, mostly because of Helen's favored habit of sleeping in later than most of the rest of the house (even if she was still expected to be on time). Helen stifled several yawns throughout the process, trying to keep herself awake – it didn't help she'd been up half the night reading, either.

"Your father also wishes me to remind you of your meeting together this evening after dinner, when he returns from London."

"Of course." Her father had frequented London, taking care of things regarding Henry and his affairs. Helen had been taking care of things at the estate, as she would continue to do so that day until his return.

"Go on, then. Your visitor is waiting in the parlor."

Curiosity growing, she ventured from her rooms and down the hall, finally more awake. The house was large and immensely beautiful inside and out. It had been built several years ago by ancestors, out of love of one man for his wife, on acreage that stretched in every direction with woods, gardens, and various other markers littering the property. Inside, warm rooms were filled with all sorts of treasures and trinkets and plush furniture. Helen had grown up in the place, and couldn't imagine a better place in which to remain – but her desires were elsewhere, away from the confines of London society.

Down the stairs and through the entry hall, her hand paused on the parlor doorknob. Who on earth could it be at this hour? Only one way to find out –

"James!"

A friend of the family, Dr. James Watson stood there with a bright smile on his face and arms extended toward her. Helen embraced him tightly – it had been months since his last visit, mostly because he'd been out traveling and had his hands busy with the influenza sweeping through.

"It's fantastic to see you." She smiled warmly, taking his hands in her own. "You look brilliant as ever – but I'm afraid father's gone off to London."

"I'm well aware, m'dear. But my visit is for you."

Helen arched a brow.

"Oh?"

He withdrew an envelope from his pocket, the official Oxford seal on it. Her heart jumped into her throat as he passed it to her.

"I bring news." He grinned as she refused the urge to rip into it immediately. Instead, she calmly steadied herself and opened it with a hesitant look, glancing up to the still smiling James as she continued and pulled out the folder letter. He spoke before she could even finish scanning it.

"I've pulled some strings, as has Gregory. You'll be allowed to start auditing classes in the fall. A start on the very long road you have begun to pave for yourself."

She tossed her arms around him in an unladylike manner, hugging him tightly with a soft laugh. Classes. At Oxford. To be the first female to do so was thrilling – and she would eventually become the doctor she very much wished to be. Hopefully. It would be a rough road, yes, but the determination she held for it and the callus feeling she had toward societal norms would make it a touch easier. She feared not what they would say about her – she would be a doctor. Just like James, just like her father. She'd wanted nothing else.

"Thank you." She said, smiling, but composing herself into something more proper. "This is absolutely brilliant, James – I can't believe you've managed this."

"You deserve it, Helen. If there was anyone who could do it, it would be you." He squeezed her hands affectionately. "More arrangements will have to be made, of course, but it is only March and classes don't begin until September. Plenty of time."

"I hardly want to wait."

"Summer will pass us by before you know it."

"One can only hope. Now, what's say we celebrate with a bit of breakfast? Something smelled absolutely marvelous coming down the steps and I'm afraid I want to investigate." She smiled and James chuckled, offering his arm to her. She slid hers through his, her Oxford letter still clutched in one hand. She would read it multiple times over in the near future, assuring herself it was not to be any sort of dream. While auditing classes would not get her a degree right away, it was certainly a start.

Led from the parlor, Helen couldn't help but consider the vague idea that things were for once acting in her favor.

As her father would be absent the rest of the day, it was merely her and James at breakfast, servers coming and going in their usual silent fashion. Helen listened as James recounted stories of his travels, eager to eventually have her own travels with the way he spoke of them. She'd only ever been to New York, but there were far more many countries to see and visit. They could hardly protest her travel if she were a doctor coming to tend and assist with the sick, either.

"And I ought to mention – I have a guest coming from the college this evening." James began after another relatively comfortable silence between them. "Your father approved and is eager to meet him – utterly brilliant. He's in the country before continuing on to New York to pursue further ventures and extended the offer of meeting Gregory and yourself."

"So I suppose this means I must be on my best behavior?"

"Are you ever, Helen?"

"You're one to talk, Dr. Watson." She quipped.

"At least I don't run through muddied lawns and get my skirts dirty."

"If you were wearing skirts than it would be an entirely different problem."

The corners of her lips turned upward into a faint, teasing smile. Another visitor was not precisely what she wanted to deal with, but the way James seemed enthused to his arrival would make her give his guest a partial chance. She'd put on her usual smile and get through dinner with casual conversation and bid them good evening. She'd done the routine many times over with the ones that had come to offer their condolences for Henry's death. Perhaps this time would be a bit easier than the last.

"In the meantime, however," She began after another moment, dusting her hands free of biscuit crumbs with a mischievous grin and a glint in her eye. "I do believe you owe me a rematch on horseback after you cheated the last time."

"I did no such thing – if anyone did, it was you."

"Utter lies, James Watson. If you're so confident, then why not agree to a rematch? Afraid I might win fair and square this time around?"

". . . Very well. You have twenty minutes to be downstairs and ready before I shall take a head start."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Payback, I believe – you're wasting time, Helen. You could have been halfway upstairs by now."

She narrowed her eyes briefly at him, lips parted in brief protest. He tapped his pocket watch and she stood from the table, excusing herself in a soft blur to dart upstairs and ring for Elizabeth.

After a rather close incident in which Helen had nearly been flung from her easily spooked horse (but she'd still beaten James in their rematch of a race) the pair returned from the excursion on horses across the fields. Her father had returned, but locked himself away in his study and had refused to be seen. Helen briefly entertained going against this, but James surprisingly volunteered instead, disappearing into the room and leaving Helen standing awkwardly in the corridor for a moment until Elizabeth came along to draw her a bath – ah, yes. They had company coming over for dinner, and she would need to look presentable, instead of appearing in a muddied riding outfit.

"Did you see my father when he came in?" Helen inquired, studying Elizabeth in the mirror of her vanity as she braided her damp hair back and down the side.

"Yes, ma'am. He looked a bit upset."

"Did he mention why?"

"I'm afraid not. Simply wished not to be disturbed until dinner."

It wasn't like her father to be reclusive as such. Generally he was quite forthcoming, but Helen had the sneaking suspicion something in London had happened. Something with Henry's affairs, likely. Legal things were always so frustrating and annoying, she'd discovered in the time she'd had to briefly work with them herself. She knew how it all worked, of course, but it didn't make it any less annoying.

Helen stood and turned, arching a brow at the choice of dress Elizabeth had picked – the dark red one she hardly ever wore. Her maid merely smiled in return and gestured for her to turn so she could be clothed and laced up. Impractical things.

"Do you know anything of our guest this evening?"

"Not in the slightest, milady."

"Oh, come now Lizzie. You must know some gossip of some sort." Helen cast an amused look over her shoulder, Elizabeth hiding a faint smile.

"Afraid it's nothing appropriate for the time being. Perhaps when I come to dress you for bed, I'll indulge your ladyship."

"I look forward to it. It's been far too quiet around here the past few days." She mused, doing her best to at least attempt to put herself in a pleasant mood – it was far easier when she didn't have to fake it. But the troubling way her father had locked herself away bothered her in a way she couldn't quite explain. No, something wasn't quite right.

The thoughts made her curious the entire trek downstairs, so much that she hardly noticed the small gathering in the front hall. Her father, James, and a man she didn't quite recognize stood conversing, falling silent upon her approach.

"Helen."

Her father's voice pulled her from her thoughts and she looked up, brandishing a smile by his appearance. He looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, but nevertheless he was giving her a tired smile and embraced her warmly when she reached the bottom step.

"Helen, this is my friend from Oxford – Nikola Tesla."

She turned her gaze to the unknown man. He was younger than she'd expected, by far, with dark hair and bright eyes. He took her offered hand and brushed his lips across the back of her knuckles, offering a warm smile.

"A pleasure to meet you, Lady Magnus. James has spoken fondly of you. And if I may say, you look quite lovely in red." His voice nearly made her reel – not quite foreign, but the accent was there, hinted around certain letters. Helen returned his smile, dropping her hand, not quite certain what to make of his compliment.

"Well, I'm afraid he's told me nothing of you – how unkind, James, for you to speak of one and not the other."

He chuckled, shaking his head at her.

"You're impossible to please, Helen."

"I do try." Her lips curved into another cheeky grin, gaze flickering back to Nikola. There was something about him that made her suddenly want to hear more of him – perhaps dinner wouldn't be an entirely dull affair after all.

"If you lot are done lingering in the hall," Her father spoke, amusement hidden within his tone, but exhaustion still detected. "Dinner is waiting."

"Did you not eat in London?" Helen inquired and he chuckled.

"The food is not nearly as appetizing as it is here. In fact, I would avoid it at all costs."

"I rather enjoy it." James mused.

"Then perhaps that's why you're getting rounder about the middle, old friend . . . ."

As James and her father dissolved into chuckles and more teasing barbed comments, Helen took the initiative to step toward the dining room. Not surprisingly, Nikola stepped into place beside her. He didn't speak, but their walking seemed to have spurred the other two behind them into following along behind.

"James tells me you wish to study at Oxford, Helen?" Nikola inquired not a moment after they'd been settled with their meals placed in front of them. Her attention went back to the strange man with a soft, but bright look.

"Indeed. To be a doctor. I just received my acceptance letter to audit classes this morning." The letter now carefully stored away in her room. "I'm to start in the fall."

"I have never seen a woman, especially one of your standard, wish to pursue such a career." He said and Helen arched a brow.

"I've never been one to follow the rules of society, Mr. Tesla. I find it too confining. If I'm the first woman to break free of that to become a doctor, so be it. I'm doing what I love and no one is going to stand in my way of doing such." She replied and he gave a chuckle.

"She's just as headstrong as you mentioned, James."

"I did warn you."

"Do not speak of me as if I'm not sitting in front of you, boys." She said, forcing her tone to be teasing more than irritated. There was nothing more she loathed than to be spoken of like an object, not a human being – a common practice of society she was also determined to break in any way possible. Idiotic things, societal rules were.

Her father steered the conversation away by giving tales of London, but he still did not quite mention what was bothering him so – or at least, what had been bothering him earlier. She couldn't decipher what it possibly was – but she was reminded of her meeting with him that night, and she'd ask then. If she was lucky he'd be in a pleasant enough mood to indulge her.

Glancing across the table, she caught Nikola's gaze on her for the third time and looked away again, forcing her attention elsewhere. One of those types, apparently – vaguely she wondered if his presence at the estate had a purpose.

"Tell me of yourself, Mr. Tesla." She said after another lull in conversation. "What is it you do that James calls so 'brilliant'?"

"I'm an inventor." He replied. "I work with the new element of electricity."

Interesting, indeed.

"He says you're going to New York after a brief period here to pursue it?"

Nikola nodded. "Yes. I've been offered a job at a company there interesting in looking into more with electricity. I hope to be put to good use."

"I'm sure your skills are invaluable – you are the first I've heard dealing in such an art." She raised her wineglass to her lips. "Makes you quite unique, does it not?"

"There were not many others in my field in school, no." He returned. "Add that on top of my Serbian heritage and I'm likely one of a kind."

"How fortunate for you."

"I imagine you'll be just as rare on campus as I was." Nikola said and Helen smirked.

"I look forward to it. I've always enjoyed a challenge." Another sip of wine and she glanced toward James and her father, who was watching the pair of them intently.

"I can tell."

She arched another brow.

"What precisely is that mean to mean, Mr. Tesla?"

"Nothing negative, certainly." He backtracked and she shot him a brief look, still uncertain how she felt about this odd man. He seemed more interested in her than bragging of his work – which was both a good and a bad thing, in the back of her mind. He was a mix of polite and insuffering, it seemed, switching back and forth quite easily.

Dinner went on, ending without incident. Her father had extended a invitation for Nikola to remain until morning since his return journey would be tiring, something he accepted, much to Helen's surprising dislike. He shot her a grin across the room when her father had announced it in his study, where they'd retreated for further drinks and discussion. Nikola had quipped something against her gender once more and Helen currently sat frostily in her spot, even after he'd apologized.

No, she certainly didn't like the high and mighty genius who'd come waltzing into her home. Whereas he hasn't been bragging at dinner, he had started in now and while his experiments sounded interesting, Helen forced herself to feign indifference. Judging by his look, he was well aware of such a fact. She shifted, smoothing the folds of her dress and resettling, gaze flickering back to him. He was still watching her, it seemed. If he had something to stare about, perhaps she would give him a reason -

"If you gentlemen will excuse my daughter and I," Her father began in and Helen nearly breathed a sigh of relief. "We have a previous meeting set up to discuss some things. William can show you both to rooms for the evening."

"Thank you for your hospitality, Dr. Magnus." Nikola spoke, giving a brief bow before he turned to Helen with another gentle smile. "A pleasure meeting you, Lady Magnus. Goodnight."

"Goodnight." She said, a bit tighter than she'd intended. She amended her tone for James. "Goodnight, Dr. Watson."

Farewells said and father and daughter left alone in the study, Helen turned her gaze to him. He sank into the chair behind his desk as if a great weight had settled against his shoulders. Concern settled across her face.

"Father?"

"I'm afraid I have depressing news, my dear." He said, leveling his gaze with her after a moment. More concern and worry flickered across her face, fingers tightening around her glass.

"What's wrong?"

"You know how the law works, Helen," He said, as if he expected her to know the answer. So it had been something to do with Henry's affairs, then. Her brow furrowed as she attempted to recall the plethora of information she'd seen, but not quite retained.

"Remind me." She said after a moment. Another sigh escaped Gregory's lips – she did not like that sound. Or that look.

"With your brother gone, there is no legal heir to the estate. It cannot legally go to you – we've had this discussion before."

A heavy weight settled into the pit of her stomach. Oh, she definitely didn't like the way this was going.

"As of right now, his Lordship Montague John Druitt is set to inherit everything, the way it goes – or so I found out in London."

Helen remembered the name. His family owned most of the property in the area, her family having inherited it from his own ages ago. They were on relatively acceptable terms with one another, the families, as Helen had met them a few times at social events. She'd played together with John when they were younger – and if she remembered correctly, he had been the one bad sheep out of the entire family. A troublesome boy who's had far too much of a temper for her to play with him long – not to mention the rumors that circulated about him most recently.

"We can't let that happen." Helen said after a moment of trying to gather her voice.

"There is only one way for it to remain within the family, Helen. To remain in your name, for you to properly inherit all of it, including your title." Gregory stared at her, and she felt the colour drain from her face. Somewhere, somehow, she knew precisely what was coming.

"You'll have to marry him. Immediately."


	2. A Favor

_**Wrote this at three in the morning. I apologize for the quality. **_

Laughter floated up to the library window, where Helen lingered, a place she had been staking out for the past few days. Anger still simmered beneath her skin, visible in the permanent scowl that had settled across her features. She'd kept to herself, unwilling to even remove herself from her room long enough to bid James and his friend goodbye. She'd barely left her room, spending time amongst her thoughts ever since her meeting with her father. Perhaps it was all childish, but she cared very little.

The laughter that had caught her attention belonged to her current problem – John Druitt. He'd come for a weeklong visit at the invitation of her father (she'd ream him out for that one later) and had only just arrived. Tall and dark haired, he looked every bit he had as a child. But still, she was uneasy – a few words with Elizabeth had added only more rumors to his not-so-spotless reputation.

"Milady." Said maid spoke quietly from the doorway. "Your presence is requested."

"Of course it is." She muttered and Elizabeth frowned. Helen sighed. "My apologies, Lizzie. I don't mean to take it out on you."

"Quite all right, ma'am."

She briefly took her ladies maid's hand, squeezing her fingers in reassurance before heading toward the stairs. She was silently beginning to brace herself. It was either marry this man or lose her entire estate. Her family home. God damned societal law. She was perfectly fine to inherit it all on her own – just because she wasn't male, however, it was being ripped out from under her. Unfairly. She was becoming nothing more than another piece of property under their eyes. Typical, of course. She wasn't blind to the way society worked in her day and age, and for the moment she only willed it to change.

There were the beginnings of a storm brewing in her mind, however, a rebellious plot that she could only dream would eventually come to life.

Helen paused at the top of the stairs, fingers tangling in the sapphire gown she wore. The servants were bringing in his luggage and trailing behind was the man himself, walking with her father, speaking kindly. She wondered how forced the smile on her father's face was. Her stomach churned, uncomfortably, but Helen forced her own smile and moved to join them.

"John Druitt. You haven't changed a bit." She managed to sound pleased, drawing their attention away. He smiled warmly at her, eyes bright.

"And you have only gotten more lovely, Lady Helen. No scars from our last encounter, I see."

"I wouldn't have them to worry about if you hadn't pushed me into the brook."

"I did apologize, many times over. Shall I do it more?"

"I shall have my revenge." She smiled teasingly and he chuckled, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand.

"I am truly to be done in, then, to be at the mercy of Helen Magnus."

She cast her father a brief glance, the elder Magnus watching the pair quite cautiously for a lingering moment.

"A tour, then?" Helen offered suddenly with a bit more of a forced smile than she intended. Hopefully it didn't come off as over eager.

"That would be helpful. I'd rather not get lost in the remainder of my stay." He mused, offering her an arm. Hesitantly she took it, curling her arm around his as she led him off in the beginnings of a tour.

Part of her was thinking that perhaps he'd changed. That he'd become a different man with less of a temper – but she knew better. Far too wise to fall for his pleasant charm and demeanor. Perhaps if she proved him to still be such a horrific human being, she wouldn't end up marrying the man and would instead have her own choices.

Yes, right. Like that was to happen anytime soon.

Throughout their tour, Helen became increasingly aware that they were not alone at any moment, even when she led him out into the gardens. A servant of some sort was there, watching, and pretending not to watch all at the same time. Apparently the rules of courtship regarding chaperones of any sort still applied. As if she would be up to no good – John, on the other hand, was a different story.

The sprawling gardens were their last stop stretched around the gravel path – they had been her mother's pride and joy. Helen remembered spending ages watching her fawn over the flowers in her own way, tending to them in tandem with the gardeners that generally took care of it all.

John pulled her down onto a bench before she could protest, his hand still in hers. They sat in silence, the only noise being the soft chirping of the birds eager for spring and the gardeners trimming away at the hedges to make way for the flowers that would soon be due to bloom in the coming weeks. April would soon be upon them, and with it plenty of rain to make the gardens thrive throughout the summer.

"You're an intelligent woman, Helen. You must know some aspect of why I'm here."

"Because you intend to take my estate away from me?" She tried with humor in her tone. Despite the fact, she saw something darken briefly behind his eyes.

"I do not wish to take anything from you, Helen. It's simply how the law works. I am sorry for the loss of your brother."

"As am I." Her gaze flickered out across the gardens, an uneasy feeling settling across her.

"Your father has mentioned other options, however?"

"If you're going to ask me to marry you, John. Simply do it and be done with it." Helen looked back to him, resolve written across her face. "I am not one for games."

"You never were." He commented, taking her hand between both of his. "So, do you intend to be my wife, Lady Magnus?"

How romantic. How rushed, too. She assumed he was simply eager to get his hands on her estate – and the title that came with it.

"I shall think on the matter." She said after a moment, withdrawing her hand. She couldn't do it. Not quite yet. Swallowing a lump that had developed in her throat, she pressed onward. "You are here to the end of the week, and I shall give you my decision then. Not a moment before."

"Now who is the one playing games?" He challenged, in a tone she discovered she didn't quite like. Brows knitting together, she suddenly stood

"I bid you good afternoon, John. I have other matters to attend to. If you need anything, I'm certain my father will arrange it for you."

And without another word, she turned and slipped away from the gardens through a side gate. Following the gravel path around to the front of the house, she wasn't sure where she was walking. Going back inside the house and shutting herself away wasn't much of an option, and running away down the long gravel drive seemed even more less of an option.

But not entirely a bad idea.

It wouldn't solve her problems, and it probably wouldn't make her feel better. But it would dull them for a while. Make everything disappear, if only for a moment. She could go into London and from there, anywhere she wanted in the world. Traveling sounded very pleasing. Helen stared down the long gravel drive for a moment, then turned to face the large home behind her, the walls brightened by the afternoon sun.

No. This was her home. She would not run and let it fall into the hands of someone else, and quite possible, ruin. She would not leave her father, her life – but that didn't mean she certainly wouldn't bloody well fight. She only needed a plan of action. Giving up was simply not her in blood, and she would go down fighting if she had to.

The only problem seemed to be that she had just promised John Druitt an answer by the end of the week.

After spending most of the second day of John's stay holed up in the library sorting through books that she thought might help her out of her current predicament, she had reluctantly agreed to attend some sort of party the third day that evening with him. She had done her best to avoid him the previous day and most of that morning, feigning first a headache, then using a promise to a friend to worm her way out of spending time with him. Now, she had little choice, confined to a carriage with him. Thankfully, James had promised to attend as well, and she looked forward to escaping her current company in order to speak with him likely most of the evening.

"You're quiet this evening, Helen."

She looked across to him with a neutral expression, gloved hands folded in her lap. Her dress was red and brightly beaded, looking brilliant even in the dim light. John was watching her closely now, and Helen realized her thoughts must have transferred onto her face.

"Tired, is all."

"Would you like to return home?"

He had no right to call it home.

"No. I'm fine."

Silence settled across them once more and Helen turned her gaze back to the window until he spoke again.

"You look troubled."

She sighed. "It's nothing to trouble yourself over, John. My thoughts are my own."

As the carriage moved to stop and she shifted to exit, he suddenly grabbed her wrist to pin her back to the seat. Her nostrils flared, eyes widening on him with a frown pulling at her lips.

"What on earth do you think you're doing?"

"Do try not to embarrass me this evening. I've heard rumors of your little stunts, Lady Helen."

"I am not yours to control, Mr. Druitt." She snapped, jerking her wrist away with a sharp glare. "And I will do as I please. You are merely my escort – whether I like it or not. But continue and I shall not step a single foot back into this carriage with you to return this evening."

The door opened and the footman extended a hand to help her down. She gratefully took it, waiting impatiently for John. No need to cause a scene in front of the others filing into the place. Several gave her warm smiles – friends she had met and remained in contact with over the years. The party she was attending was mostly for the benefit of the close friend throwing it, Lady Chesterly and her husband. Their estate was quite a distance, but they always made a point to attend parties together. Helen was somewhat grateful there would be more friends for her to emplore the company of that evening rather than the man now leading her by the arm.

"Helen! Absolutely wonderful to see you." Lady Chesterly, known to Helen as Mary, greeted warmly where she stood with her husband, greeting guests. She embraced Helen lightly, smiling. "You look brilliant as ever."

"Always good to see you, Mary. It's been far too long. You must come out to the country more often. We'll go riding again like last summer."

"You couldn't keep me away." She laughed softly, looking to John. "Mr. Druitt, a pleasure to see you as well."

"Lady Chesterly." He smiled in return. "Thank you for the invitation this evening."

"As always. Now off you go. I'll find you both later to do a bit of catching up."

Helen was pulled away before she could even utter a thank you or goodbye on her own. Anger boiled up beneath her skin, but the thin-lipped smile remained plastered across her face as they entered the room where others were dancing, mingling, and drinking, absorbed in conversation. Immediately, she began to look for James.

"Care to dance?"

"Not in particular. I'm going to seek out James. I have something for him." She replied smoothly – half a lie. While she didn't have anything for him, the excuse was easier to believe than the fact that she simply just wanted to get away. With some hesitation, he released her arm and Helen slipped away into the crowd before she could be caught again. She was making it quite clear she had no desire to be around him – perhaps he would take the hint and forfeit to her. Unlikely, she knew, but there was the smallest hope.

She moved through groups of people, smiling and offering words of brief greeting to those she knew. It seemed James had not arrived yet; John would be venturing back after her soon, no doubt. Part of her hoped she had just missed him and he was looking for her as well –

"Lady Magnus."

She whirled, suddenly, lips parted in silent greeting. Surprise crossed her features when she saw it was Nikola who stood there, wearing a bright grin.

"I wasn't aware you knew dear Mary."

"We've known one another since we were girls." Helen spoke. It wasn't James, but perhaps it would do for a distraction. "I wasn't aware you knew her."

"Her husband and I attended school together." He replied. "You look in quite a rush."

"I was looking for Dr. Watson."

"I'm afraid he won't be attending. I was speaking to Lord Chesterly and apparently he sent someone in his stead because an emergency pulled him away." Nikola said. Helen sighed heavily. There went her plans to evade John the rest of the evening. Glancing around, she didn't directly spot him. When she looked back to Nikola, he was offering a hand.

"Would you like to dance?"

"As long as you promise not to insult me." She spoke before she could help herself. Thankfully, his lips quirked at the corners and he gave a soft chuckle.

"I never meant it. All in good fun, of course."

She eyed him skeptically, but slipped her hand into his anyway. Instantly he swept her away from her current place and toward the others who were being pulled into a new dance, Helen right along with them. A simple waltz, one she was quite familiar with, and it seemed one Nikola was familiar with as well. They moved in tandem with ease and grace, skillfully avoiding bumping into those around them.

"I never pegged you as the sort to attend these sorts of parties." Nikola spoke quietly and she looked to him, smirking faintly.

"Funny. I was just considering the same of you."

He chuckled again, but did not reply and left Helen to her thoughts. Allowing him to lead, she moved smoothly with his motions as she focused on other things. She was still struggling to come up with some sort of plan of action. Nothing in the library had offered her help save for very few things, but there was another idea playing at the back of her mind. One she would rather not act upon, but the seedling of a thought was there, perhaps as a back up if she absolutely had to.

"Contemplating the mysteries of the universe?"

"Not at all. Only my current dilemma."

"Of who you want to dance with next?" He arched a brow, but that teasing smirk was there when she looked to him.

"Hardly. Much more complicated manners than that."

"Your inheritance?"

She narrowed her eyes.

"How on earth do you know of that?"

"James has not kept everything to himself, I'm afraid." He spoke, twirling her in place a moment before resuming their movement across the floor. The music swelled and died around them in constant motion. "I assume you are here tonight with Druitt?"

"Unfortunately."

"You're not pleased?"

"Of course not. Being married off to some stranger isn't precisely my life's dream, thank you."

"Helen?"

She stumbled, nearly into Nikola, when John suddenly appeared beside him. The look on his face was hesitantly pleasant, though the darkening of his eyes told another story. She straightened herself, casting him a cool look.

"What is it?"

"May I speak with you?" His tone had become somewhat strained as if he were fighting with something. She looked to Nikola, who was staring between the two with an interested sort of look. Helen swallowed tightly.

"Thank you, Mr. Tesla, for the dance." She said. "I'm afraid I'm called elsewhere."

"Until another time, Lady Magnus." He lifted the hand that was still in one of his and kissed the back of her fingers with another smirk. He gave a mock little bow, before disappearing amongst the jubilant crowd. John took her by the arm then, gently pulling her away until they were in a mostly deserted hall.

Almost at once, he had her pinned roughly against the wall. She let out a sharp gasp at the hand at her hip and the other tightening against her arm, almost painfully.

"Get your hands off me." She hissed, twisting in an effort to free herself. His grip was near iron, however, keeping her in place. His face inches from her own, his lips pulled back into a demented little smirk.

"I think not, Helen. What were you doing with Tesla?"

"Planning to overthrow the monarchy – what in the name of hell did it look like, John?!" She snapped darkly, and it was then she smelled the alcohol on his breath. Something far stronger than they had been serving at the party. Oh, lovely. She was to marry an alcoholic as well. "Let. Go."

"You are mine." He seethed. "And I will not have you dancing with others."

"I am not your property!" Helen shifted again – blasted skirts. His hand suddenly across her face stilled her a moment, head turned where it had snapped from being struck. Her cheek burned with a sudden intense fire, stinging more than she'd expected. A metallic flavor in her mouth told her he had busted her lip, too, with such a slap.

"I'm taking you home. Now." He snarled, jerking her away from the wall. She stumbled, already beginning he struggling anew. "Behave now, Helen. We wouldn't want to make a scene." John continued in the same tone.

"The only one causing a scene, Druitt, is you."

John and Helen both paused, Nikola suddenly making a heroic return. He stepped to them, noting the bright red of Helen's cheek and busted lip, and the way John was holding her wrist – she was certain the circulation was going to leave it any moment.

"Run along home. I'll be taking care of Lady Magnus from here."

"I think not, Tesla."

Helen waited a moment, before suddenly launching a leg up in just the proper place to nail John where it counted. He hissed, nearly crying out in pain, his grip released as he focused on other things. Instantly Helen moved toward Nikola – he placed his hand at the small of her back and led her down another side hall and out into the open air.

Once outside, Helen gingerly brought a hand to her cheek, wincing as it only caused the stinging to grow worse. Nikola removed a white handkerchief from his pocket and offered it out to her. She took it with silent thanks, pressing it to her lip with a soft frown.

"Someone probably should have warned you that Druitt has always had quite the temper. Only inflamed by his terrible drinking problem." He muttered.

"I'd heard the rumors." Helen said quietly. That night seemed only to fuel her need to find another way, to keep away from John. Helen had yet to come up with an excuse now, to explain the mark on her cheek and lip – and by the way her wrist was still throbbing from his grip, the bruising there.

"Come on." Nikola spoke suddenly, gesturing another way that would take them to the front of the house. "I'll take you home."

"You really don't need to do that, Mr. Tesla."

"You plan on staying on with Mary and Edgar, then? Or suffering a ride home with the man who just thought it grand fun to degrade and hurt you nearly in front of an entire party?" He quipped. He had a point; she didn't want to bother Mary or her husband, and riding home with John simply wasn't an option any longer.

With not another option, Helen followed Nikola to a waiting carriage.

The ride back toward the Magnus estate was spent in silence, Helen staring out the window as she'd done before. Nikola's kerchief was crumbled between her fingers, the bleeding from her lip having stopped. How dare he. How dare John should think it wise to lay a hand on her. Peeling away her gloves in frustration and anger, she folded them in her lap and resumed glaring out the window.

"Your father expects you to marry him?"

"In order to keep the estate in my name, yes. There is no other option since my brother died. We have no heir." Helen spoke tersely, looking to Nikola beside her. "But I'm not giving up hope that something will happen. I refuse to marry such a . . . bastard."

"Such language, Lady Magnus. Have you no manners?"

"Not with ones like him."

Her fingers curled into fists as she looked back out the window at the passing countryside, night having settled long ago. It was a dark blur outside, but it offered a small distraction for the time being as she sank into her thoughts. There had to be another way. Another way out.

Glancing back toward Nikola, she was suddenly struck with another thought, from something else she'd read in the library.

"Mr. Tesla," She said suddenly, shifting so she could face him more properly – as best as one could. There was hesitation in her voice, as well as a cautious, guarded look on her face.

"Yes?" He inquired with a bemused expression.

"I must ask a favor of you."


	3. Crash and Burn

Friday dawned bright and early. Helen had been awake for several hours by the time she heard Elizabeth knock timidly on the door in her usual manner to draw her bath. Her stomach was already churning with nerves, and even in the bath she couldn't quite stop fidgeting. Her sudden plan of action was probably not the most logical of plans, but it was the best she could do with the situation at hand.

Breakfast was a rather silent affair, as Helen kept her head down and spoke only to her father, ignoring the vile man across from her. He was smirking to himself though, thinking himself quite high and mighty that he'd ensnared the wildness of Helen Magnus – oh, how wrong he truly would be that afternoon.

If there was one thing the sprawling grounds of the estate were good for besides riding, it was for brilliant lawn parties. Helen had often enjoyed them, preferring open air to a stuffy interior, and the day had been just warm enough in order to pull one off. Scheduled under the guise of a simple get together, she was to announce her engagement to John sometime during the party – something that she knew everyone in attendance would know almost instantly upon receiving the invitation.

Helen hid a smile to herself as she watched the servants prepare from her perch at the garden gate. The calm before the storm, she imagined, before the backlash of her decision was to come back and fully hit her after the party. There would be some sort of scene – though whether it would be in front of guests or behind closed doors, she had yet to decide.

At movement in the corner of her eye, she glanced over. John was strolling beside her father, talking animatedly, seemingly happy. Her father wore a look of weariness across his face; she knew he hadn't been sleeping well, with the amount of stress he'd been under over everything, including the fate of his daughter. As he glanced her way, she gave a reassuring smile – or what she assumed was, before he continued across the lawn to greet the first of the guests as they arrived.

But she was not afraid of a challenge. Today certainly would be one, and the many days to come.

For now, however, she was taking advantage of her free time by going out for a ride. To clear her head, mostly and to steel herself silently for the days to come. A last bout of freedom for a while, at the very least. The party wouldn't be for another few hours at least, which left her with a prime window. With a bright smile, she climbed atop her horse and took off without an escort toward the forestry at the edge of the property, eager to lose herself among the trees for a while yet. They wouldn't come to find her. Not yet.

At least, that had been her initial reaction, until John Druitt had suddenly joined her on the path through the trees. She had been so lost within her own thoughts that she hadn't heard him approach.

"You shouldn't ride alone, Helen." He commented in vague amusement. "Your father saw you going off on your own and asked that I accompany you."

_I'm sure he did_, Helen thought wryly, not looking at him. Vaguely, she wondered if he was going to be civil or not.

"I've been riding these trails since I was a child, Mr. Druitt. I'm more than capable of navigating them on my own. Besides, you should be preparing for the garden party this afternoon."

"As should you. I imagine you shall be accosted by your guests after they learn the good news."

"Indeed." She agreed wryly. She glanced toward him and noted the funny look on his face; did he suspect something? Perhaps. Helen found she didn't care – although, being alone with him in the woods was another story and did pose a small threat in the back of her mind. No one would come looking for her for a while, if something were to happen . . . .

She tried to push the thoughts from her mind.

"I assure you everything will be marvelous. You will keep your title and we'll be Count and Countess once your father is gone. We'll give our heirs something to look forward to." He chuckled and Helen nearly choked on air.

"Heirs?"

"You're not completely lost on everything, Helen. The reason you're in this position is because your mother failed to produce more than one son."

Her temper flared up suddenly and she jerked her horse to a stop with a rough tug.

"How dare you speak of my mother in that manner!" She snapped, practically snarling from the harshness of his statement. Her continued without conscious thought, the words spilling forth. "It's a damn well good thing I'm not marrying the likes of you – like I'd ever want to rear a son with someone as horrific as you, John Druitt!"

"You have no choice, Helen." He laughed. "My, I can see I'll never be bored with you."

"I have every bit of choice because I've made other arrangements. You can kindly go back to the whores you're constantly sleeping around with and stay away from me and my property." She growled, watching his face turn into something more stormy at her words. For a moment she thought he might slap her, but he reached out and grabbed the reigns of her horse instead, jerking them from her hands.

"You're entering dangerous territory, Helen." He growled. "And speaking nonsense."

"No." She reached for the reigns, attempting to tug them back. "My hand has already been promised to another. As long as I marry, there's a male heir in the family and everything goes to him. Have a good life, John. Stay out of mine." She jerked hard against the reigns, but he did not relent. Instead, he reached out with his other hand and grabbed her arm, jerking her to the point where she was struggling to stay atop her horse.

"You won't be marrying anyone if you're dead, Helen. Then I'll still get everything. How unfortunate you had to choose such a path." There was suddenly a glint of metal and panic laced through her. Instantly she began to struggle, his swing only ending up slicing through the soft leather of the reigns. Her horse, spooked, shifted uncomfortably and she grabbed it's mane with her free hand, prepared for it's sudden rearing – for once, she was almost glad the thing was always so panicked.

John, deterred by the horse's actions, released her long enough for her to grab the creature's mane with another hand just as it took off bolting through the trees, off the path. Small branches tore at her face and she ducked, burying her face in her horse's neck. From one danger to another, it seemed. Hooves pounded against the dirt, the horse running in fear of whatever had spooked it – John, most likely. Animals had always had such an excellent judge of character, she'd found. Perhaps her horse was just eager to get her to safety otherwise. It sounded rather entertaining in her mind, at the very least.

Nevertheless, both she and her horse failed to notice the sinkhole ahead.

The air left Helen's chest as she slammed into the ground somewhere near a large tree, landing against it's roots that had her head splitting and her side and leg screaming in pain. She gasped for breath, world spinning.

_Well, perhaps John will get his wish of my death,_ a small voice in Helen's head whispered as she tried to sit up and found it difficult to do so because of the pain in her side. Not one to give up, she grabbed onto a low hanging branch and attempted to pull herself up, only to crumble back to the ground when her leg gave out with a burning pain. Her side and head throbbed in unison as she sat on the ground a moment, dazed. Her horse, limping from it's contact with the sinkhole, made it over to her and fell to the ground nearby, close enough for her to lean against it's side. The warm fur was better than the large log near her feet at any rate, especially as it slowly became apparently to Helen that she would not be moving from that spot for a while.

And they weren't going to come looking for her for a while yet. By then it could be night, when they realized she had failed to show up to her own party.

Fingers fumbling a moment, she unlatched the saddle and managed to push it off the horse's back for his comfort and her own; she was able to more freely rest against him. The world began to blur in a series of colours and her gaze went to the sky, the sun already hitting the early afternoon mark. A sudden tiredness was overwhelming her, threatening to pull her under. Despite knowing she shouldn't, she turned her head and buried her face into the horse's side, letting it claim her.

"Helen . . . Helen!"

Fingers against her cheek and her name repeatedly pulled her out of her sleep, and for a moment when she opened her eyes she thought she couldn't see. It took her a moment to adjust to the sudden darkness – since when had it gotten dark? But it wasn't quite dark. There was a little light left in the sky – dusk.

"Helen, focus."

Her gaze went to James, surprised to see him there along with two others she didn't quite recognize, holding lanterns that had cast a soft light on the place.

"Can you move?" James asked. "Helen, I need you to stay awake. You may have a concussion."

"Not well." She answered after a moment, attempting to shift. The pain in her side returned, but it was a dull throb and nothing like the sharp pain it had been. Her head was still hurting, and when she attempted to put any sort of weight against her leg to even attempt to stand, it still gave out and she had to reach out to latch onto James.

"Come on. Let's get you home." He murmured quietly, and with one fell swoop had pulled her into his arms. Everything blurred at the sudden movement and vaguely she heard him address one of the other two to take care of her horse. She let her head rest against James' chest, arm looped around his neck.

"Did you walk all the way out here?" She inquired, still somewhat dazed, her words near slurring.

"To find you, yes. You had everyone worried sick." He said quietly. "Your father tried to send everyone home, but you have adamant friends. Especially ones who are volunteering to come and look for you."

"Sorry. Horse got spooked."

"As John said."

She felt her blood run cold.

"It was his fault." She murmured.

"I suspected." James didn't sound surprised. "A little birdy told me of the other night, Helen. I won't have him harming you. We must do something."

"I have a plan." She continued meekly. "I told him vague details. He got upset. Tried to attack me and then my horse ran off. Tripped in a sinkhole."

"We'll take care of it, Helen." He hushed her quietly. "Just rest. We'll be home in just a bit. But I need you to stay awake."

Helen did her best to remain awake and functioning as they walked in the dim light, James moving without lantern light since he was taking her back alone, the other two tending to her horse. They emerged from the trees as the sun was just beginning to completely dip below the horizon. There were lanterns in the distance on the lawn she could see, part of the party she was meant to attend. Suddenly she did not want to face them – John would be among them. And he wanted her dead. Not her idea of fun at the moment.

Thankfully, when her father came sweeping forward and told James to take her in to the parlor, she was saved from such a grace. She apologized quietly to her father who was shushing her as well, more worried about her injuries at the current moment. James placed her gently on the chaise lounge in the parlor and suddenly there were more people about – James and her father for one, then servants were coming and going at her father's request for medical supplies and anything that might make the day better. It was then she noticed Nikola lingering in the shadows of the room, and that John had sweeped in when she wasn't looking, a picture of concern on his face.

"I'm fine." She insisted quietly as her father bandaged her ankle, declaring it to be sprained. Her side was only severely bruised. With gentle hands he placed a small bandage against the cut on her forehead, promising her that she indeed did likely have a concussion as well.

"What happened, my darling?" He inquired finally, and Helen swallowed thickly, attempting to shift to sit up a bit more. She felt helpless, and from the look John was giving her from his place across the room, she wondered vaguely what would occur if she outed him. Helen glanced silently to James, communicating silently for a moment.

"James will tell you the story later, among other things, I'm sure." Helen said quietly. "But I must admit something else. I was rather hoping to save it as a surprise tonight." Play innocent for now, and hope that James would divulge the rest of the situation to her father afterward.

"Helen, you should rest -." John began, but she continued over top of him with a stronger, almost angry tone.

"I must tell you this, father." Her gaze never left her father's. "I've had another ask me for my hand. And I've accepted." She glanced to Nikola, who had suddenly stepped forward to take one of her hands, brushing a thumb across the back of hers. The gesture was comforting, especially to the wide-eyed looks that James and he were both giving her. John had fallen still and silent.

"I've researched it. As long as I marry, it doesn't matter who. Everything will go to him and all will be well." She even attempted the smallest of smiles. Not how she'd intended for everything to spill forth, but it would do. Her father would inform her guests eventually too, she imagined, once he got over the shock.

But to her surprise, her father smiled warmly.

"Whatever pleases you, my love." He said. "I will take care of telling the others – you stay here and rest. James, I want to speak with you in private." His gaze went to Druitt, and he was almost smug. "If you'll please return to the others, Mr. Druitt, and let them know my daughter is well while I speak with Dr. Watson, I'll make certain the valets have your things packed for your immediate departure."

The look on Druitt's face as he angrily stomped from the room, however, told Helen her fight was far from over.

"Nikola – keep watch on her. She'll try and escape if she's not watched." Her father suddenly addressed Nikola, who nodded.

"Yes, sir. I won't let her up from the lounge until your orders are otherwise amended." The pair exchanged a look of amusement, almost to Helen's vague horror. She sighed heavily, shaking her head the moment her father and James had left the room. Nikola chuckled.

A daring idea, but she and Nikola had planned it out on the ride home after that particular evening, and had not told a soul of their plans. Helen would marry him in order to ensure the estate and such – as long as she married, there would be a male heir, even if it wasn't to John she'd found – and after a week of marriage he would continue onto New York City as planned and she would remain in England to attend school in the fall. A marriage of convenience, really. Nothing more than that, in her mind. There was nothing romantic between them of course, but marriages had survived on less.

"Took it better than expected." He commented, leaning over the back of the lounge, his hand still wrapped in hers. "Are you certain you're all right?"

"For now, yes. But John isn't going to let this go easily."

"Of course not. Part of the fun, I think. And you've always loved a challenge." He echoed. She very nearly leaned up to smack his arm, but simply didn't have the strength in her to attempt it.

"We'll have to fight it together."

"And we haven't even taken vows yet." Nikola grinned and the urge to smack him again rose.

"Don't make me change my mind."

"Never."


End file.
